365 Days
by dayzy27
Summary: A Summer 2006 LL ficathon story written for Pink Hammer. Lorelai considers what a year can bring.


Disclaimer: Not mine. Never will be. End of story. Grad students are poor, so I've got nothing to give.

Author's Note: Written for the 2006 Summer Ficathon for Pink Hammer. Story requirements below. My inaugural fic.

A lot can change in a year, she thinks as she lies on her bed, her arms comfortably folded under her head. No one knows that better than she. One year she was a reckless 15 year-old. The next she was a mother. And a year after that she was raising her daughter alone in a potting shed in a town away from her parents.

When she was younger, before Rory was born, she used to lie in bed at night wondering what her life would be like in a year. Would this be the year that she would finally grow some kind of a chest, something that would actually warrant the bra that she wore but by no means needed? Would this be the year that she got her first kiss? Lost her virginity? Fell in love?

She thought about other things too--things that she would never admit to anybody. She wondered if a year from now her mother would love her for who she was, not despise her for who she wasn't. She wondered if this year her father would ask her if she wanted to tag along on one of his trips so that they could tour some great European city together, just to two of them, to reassure herself that her father did appreciate her existence. She wondered where she would go to school, what she would do when she grew up?

When Rory was a baby, she used to lie in bed at night and wonder what would happen this year? What would Rory's first word be? When would she take her first step? Grow some hair? Would she have enough money to raise Rory, give her the material possessions that love alone could not provide? Would she be able to move out of the potting shed one day and live in a real house? Would she meet someone who wouldn't care that she had a baby when she was sixteen? Who would love her for who she is and not see her as the disappointment everyone except Mia seemed to see.

Though her questions about the coming year changed from year to year, and were mostly centered around Rory, she still constantly wondered when would she finally find The One; the one she would know she was meant to spend the rest of her life with? She remembers those nights well, as she listened to Rory's soft breathing next to her in bed. She knows that all of the handsome princes and knights featured in her nightly bedtime stories to Rory were really her fantasies about finding the one disguised. She knows that life isn't a fairytale, hers especially--you never hear of Snow White or Cinderella getting knocked up at 16--but she couldn't help hoping hers would turn out like that. So those nights she remembers thinking if one of the random guests at the inn, perhaps a son traveling with his parents, would just happen to notice her and pursue her and end up being the one.

But things have changed now. She doesn't have suffer from teenage angst any longer, doesn't have to worry if her chest will rival that of her peers--she's quite fond of it now (and so is he), and it has served her well over the years. She doesn't have to worry about never being kissed or dying a virgin. All of those milestones were met many years ago. She still doesn't know exactly where she stands with her parents, but she thinks that perhaps her relationship with them is on the mend. It definitely has its ups and downs (perhaps more downs than ups still), but it's better than it was before.

Most importantly, the soft breathing (though snoring may be slightly more accurate) beside her at night no longer is that of her young daughter's. It's that of her husband's. She no longer lies in bed at night wondering about the guy she'll grow old with. She's found him, no doubt about, and she's entirely certain that he's not going anywhere. Well, maybe to the diner, but wherever he goes, she'll follow, and vice versa. Especially if coffee is involved. When she first met him, she never thought that he would end up being The One. He was her coffee provider, occasionally her therapist, but not husband material. Not until she couldn't deny his devotion and concern about her life and Rory's anymore, until she (finally!) realized that she'd found her fairytale, albeit a scruffy, grumpy prince in this case, in the local diner owner.

Today, like most days, she's asking and answering questions in her mind. Fortunately, they're pretty trivial (mostly), easy to answer. When will he get around the mowing the lawn? Or fixing the drawer in the bathroom that got stuck when they got a little too frisky the other morning and ran into it. (She did her best to soothe the bruise that marks his upper thigh as he took the brunt of the force. He seemed to appreciate that.)

She glances towards her closet. What should she wear? What would it do for her eyes? Legs? How would the neckline flatter her chest (she knows how much he enjoys it)? Would it go with those shoes? That bag? The sparkly necklace, or other sparkly necklace? What are they going to do tonight? How does ink come out of pens? He never answered her on that one...maybe she'll ask him again, see what kind of answer she'll get now.

What are they going to do tonight? She doesn't know. He's not telling her. It's infuriating. She once told Rory that a lady always plans ahead to avoid clashing with the decor. What kind of advice would that be if she herself can't use it properly? She desperately wants (needs) to know so that she can plan accordingly. Maybe that's the tactic she'll take. She starts to plan it out in her head--her plan of attack: You don't want your beautiful wife to clash with the decor--I need to know where we're going to so that I look good, so that you look even better. I wouldn't want to embarrass you by wearing the wrong thing. She knows it won't work, but it's worth a shot.

She's amazed that it's been a year. She definitely remembers what she was thinking a year ago today. Would she trip walking down the aisle? It was a definite possibility in those shoes. Could she avoid rambling while she recited her own vows? Would it be possible to live in her dress forever? But also, how long would it take him to remove what she considered the most beautiful dress ever from her body that night? Would she ever stop smiling? What kind of comments would her mother make about her hair or shoes? How will it feel to be married? To be someone's wife?

She never knew she could be so happy. She was never unhappy with her life. Rory was one of the best things to happen to her, but raising her as a single mother was harder than she cares to admit. But she's not ashamed to say that Luke is also one of the most important things to have happened to her. He completes her. Allows her to be herself, and loves her for it. In fact, she can't be anyone but herself around him--he knows her too well to allow her to hide anything from him.

The house, which used to perfectly reflect her and Rory's personalities and eccentricities has changed to include artifacts of not only of his life, but of theirs. There are big things--like the additional room that is meant for April, and thatotherroom that is currently serves as a sewing room, but may one day (hopefully soon) belong to not his child or her child, but their child. But it's the small things that excite her the most--the fact that there is a spatula permanently housed in a utensil drawer, Bert always sitting in the garage, plaid sheets (only tucked in on one side) on the bed, a hook on the wall for the hat, and all of those other subtleties that scream, "Man in the house!"

Every time she passes by that room, she feels a little tug. They've had "the talk"--they've decided that it's something they both want, and soon, because she's not getting any younger. But they've purposefully put off trying for now. They're happy with their blended family, their two daughters. Mostly though, they still want their own time together before cries pull them away from each other in the middle of the night, before their lives start revolving around another person instead of around each other. It may be considered selfish, but they're okay with that. But she's positive that they'll be ready soon, really soon. She's actually ready tonight soon, and intends on sharing this with him.

She wonders if they'll be able to go out this day next year, if they'll want to. Hopefully, she'll either be as big as a house, or breastfeeding and so exhausted that she won't want to go out. She'll be perfectly content to spend the evening in, wrapped in her husband's arms on the couch with either a large belly or infant between them. It's a great mental picture, and tonight, as she gets ready for her first anniversary dinner with Luke, she wonders what they'll name their child. If it will be a girl or a boy? Will it have his ears or her nose? Would Luke object if she named it Lorelai? What other good nicknames are there for Lorelai?

She's decided to bypass the sparkly necklaces altogether. Instead, she pulls out that other necklace, the one that perfectly matches the earrings that hang delicately from her ears. She still has to get ready and now is probably a good time. He'll be home soon, and will be upset if he finds her just smiling into the mirror, still dressed in her tee shirt and jeans. She takes one last look. The smile still lingers. She's positive it'll never leave. She's too happy. A lot can change in a year. A lot can stay the same.

**Prompt**:

Picture a little lovenest

Down where the roses cling

Picture that same sweet lovenest

Think what a year can bring.

-Frank Sinatra, "Makin' Whopee"

**Should have:** Something positive.

**Shouldn't have:** Christopher.


End file.
